in time to the melodic bass. The music was the perfect backdrop to the lush, verdant scenery of wild orchids, giant ferns and Caribbean flamingos. And Soufrière was different from the other Saint Lucia quarters because it had the world’s only drive-in volcanic crater. Hylan always made a point of visiting it whenever he was on the island and could already feel himself getting excited at the prospect of seeing the sulfur springs again.
As the music of Weekes faded out, Rafiq turned the radio back down and grinned at Hylan. “So are you staying long or are you just swooping in to take our lovely Nikki away from us?”
“I’m just in for two weeks.” Hylan struggled to keep his grin from turning cocky. Rafiq seemed extremely confident in Hylan’s game when it came to women. But if this Nikki chick was even half the dime-piece Rafiq thought she was, then Hylan would be down for whatever. Vacations were always best when they were spent with the opposite sex. “But I can be persuaded to stay longer.”
Rafiq’s cocky grin matched Hylan’s as he made a sharp left on a rustic coastal road that ascended to Dawson’s private estate. Once they cleared the overgrown foliage, the two-story white, palatial villa stretched up toward a darkening blue sky.
“Looks like we’re in for a rough one,” Hylan observed.
“What are you going to do? It’s that time of year.” Rafiq said as he slammed on the brakes.
Hylan’s hands shifted from the door to the dashboard, which he was certain he was just seconds from sailing through. Before he could curse the driver out, Rafiq had jumped from behind the wheel and started unloading the bags.
“Welcome home,” Rafiq declared and then marched up toward the front door.
Hylan stumbled out of the vehicle on shaky legs and grabbed the two remaining bags. The moment he crossed the threshold however, he pulled up short and wondered if Rafiq had taken him to the right house. “What the…”
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Rafiq said, bobbing his head and smiling as if he expected Hylan to turn cartwheels or something.
He almost did. Not that he didn’t like his house before with its pristine, airy, white décor that, quite frankly, most villas—whether they were homes or resorts—showcased. His spacious vacation villa now looked both modern and urbane, intimate, masculine, quiet and sophisticated—especially with its coffee-colored walls.
“This looks like it cost me a fortune,” he said. His gaze danced across the room with its new furniture and an array of eclectic artworks.
Rafiq shrugged. “I don’t know about such things. You’d have to ask the missus about that.”
Hylan bobbed his head, but then when Rafiq’s words registered, he frowned and turned his head toward him. “Ask who?”
“All I’m saying is that a man’s house is his castle, no?”
Hylan started to answer when this angelic voice floated down from the second level. “Rafiq, is that you?”
Hylan didn’t think it was possible but the man’s smile stretched even wider as he brushed a hand over his bushy, uneven ‘fro.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The woman laughed and it sounded like sweet music to Hylan’s ears.
“I thought so. I’d recognize that engine anywhere. When are you going to get a tune-up?”
Obviously embarrassed, Rafiq’s broad smile dimmed as he kicked the tiled floor in the foyer. “Soon. I’ll get it to the shop later this week. Promise.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Can you go help Momma Mahina out in the guesthouse? We’re storm-proofing all the windows.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rafiq started bowing even though the woman had yet to grace him with her presence. “By the way Nikki, I, um, brought you home a gift.” He poked another sharp elbow into Hylan’s ribs.
Hylan flinched, but not before debating whether to send a quick jab upside Rafiq’s head. He spared him this time, but if the man elbowed him again, all bets were off.
“No more gifts, Rafiq,” the woman said, her voice becoming clearer as she approached the top of the stairs. “I told you that I’m a happily married woman.” She stepped into view and froze.
Hylan’s eyes widened with a sudden jolt of recognition—like any man could ever forget those stacked curves or even that face. “You.” In the next second, he felt as if he was spiraling out of control in some mad man’s vertigo. He dropped the bags that were in his hands and at the last second managed a little more strength in his knees. Was he dreaming or was he seeing that New York actress’s twin? They say everyone has one.
After a few more seconds, Hylan felt as if he was getting his bearings back—at least that’s what he took his growing hard-on to mean.
“Ah, Nikki, I knew you’d like this gift,” Rafiq boasted, slamming his large, bony hand against the center of Hylan’s back.
Nikki? This was the infamous woman Rafiq bragged about? Hylan dropped his gaze so that he could take in the pleasure of its slow climb back up her body. This certainly had the makings of becoming a memorable vacation.
Rafiq’s laughter bubbled between the silent couple. “Looks like I was wrong. Nikki didn’t know you were coming. You old dog.” He delivered another whack against Hylan’s back, before he then leaned over and whispered, “About that gift thing, that’s just a little inside joke between us two. I would never hit on your wife.”
Rafiq’s declaration may as well have been a sucker punch. “My wife!”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
